


The Moment She Knew

by Jules_Ink



Category: Arrow (TV 2012)
Genre: Dropping truth-bombs, F/M, Post-epiosde 3x1
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-10-12
Updated: 2014-10-12
Packaged: 2018-02-20 21:56:11
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,133
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2444558
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Jules_Ink/pseuds/Jules_Ink
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"I said I didn't want to talk,” she said, her voice soft. “but I realized that I have some things to say to you.” Felicity waits for Oliver at the Foundry. (An additional scene taking place after the end of 3x01. Includes spoilers for that episode.)</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Moment She Knew

**Author's Note:**

> Obviously, the premiere of season three gave me some extreme feels - I mean how could one not be moved and touched and torn by what happened? The date, the baby, the kiss, the death of the wrong Lance-sister - overkill! All of this gave me the distinct feeling that season three will be long and painful with respect to Olicity. It also left me with some unanswered questions like: Since when is Roy an acrobat? And how quick is Felicity with dressing up - one minute she's working, the next she's perfectly styled. But most of all: How does Oliver fit his business suit under his arrow-suit and keep it perfectly wrinkle-free?! I know a beta who wouldn't let me get away with a stunt like that! ;-)
> 
> So, as this rant shows you: I had to work through some stuff. This short piece is my try to do that. I want to thank Vicki for checking it and for encouraging me to actually post this. I hope you enjoy!
> 
> Disclaimer: I do not own the Arrow or any things connected to it.

The Moment She Knew  
  
The metallic steps rattled under his feet. His steps were quick and heavy as he headed down to the Foundry. After his talk with Barry Allen on the rooftop he had stayed out, patrolling for a long time. He understood why Roy spent most off his nights on the streets. Looking for a fight, focussing on your body was the perfect way to keep your mind occupied with strategic things and away from... personal issues. Roy hadn't seen Thea in months and Oliver knew how much the kid was hurting. Thea had broken up with him and fled town, and now she was out there traveling the world – with what money Oliver had no idea and he didn't want to start thinking that she could be hitch-hiking, because that would seriously freak him out. Roy could do nothing but deal with the fact that she had left him. It was hard to come to terms with that, that the person you loved was gone.  
  
Even harder was letting a loved one go when she was still around you every single day.  
  
Oliver knew, because he was experiencing the agony of it right now. He had dared to bare himself to Felicity, had stripped all pretense and acts away and had lain all his feelings, thoughts and fears out for her to see. She had taken a good look and had smiled at him with nothing but joy and acceptance in her eyes, and it had been... It had been wonderful. It had been everything he had ever dared to hope for.  
  
She was everything he had ever dared to hope for.  
  
But he couldn't do it, couldn't get lost in the possibilities she presented. Right now he didn't know how to divide his attention between her and his crusade. In the last days she had been all he could think of.  
  
But when he was this distracted people died.  
  
He needed to keep his focus firmly planted on his mission to keep this city safe – this city and everyone in it. To make it a better place for John's little girl and everyone else, including Felicity.  
  
Frustration was filling him, mixing with sadness and a feeling of ultimate loss. It was a horrible emotional cocktail that demanded an outlet. Sadly, his lengthy patrolling session had brought him nobody he could hit. That was the reason why he was now heading down the stairs so quickly. The training dummy was waiting for him down there and that thing was always perfect when it came to venting some anger.  
  
Still in his Arrow-outfit, bow in hand, he took the last step – and was instantly rooted to the spot. Because there she was, Felicity, still in the same dress she had worn at the hospital, next to the damn fern she had bought him. He swallowed heavily, as he slowly walked toward her. He felt his calm slipping away, but fought to keep his face even. She was still his partner, she was still part of this team, he would be seeing a lot of her, he needed to find a way to deal with that.  
  
He just hadn't thought he would have to face her tonight.  
  
His hand closed around his bow, gripping it so tightly that he knew his knuckles would be white under the gloves. He needed something to hold on to, something to steady him, because the way Felicity looked and looked at him really unsettled him. She had been crying, he could see it in the redness of her eyes, and that sight alone was enough to make the facade slip. He pressed his lips together, willing the emotions to stay where they were, stay hidden. He couldn't get close to her, wouldn't dare to do it. Turning it into a barrier separating them, he stopped behind the medical table. The image of her laying on top of it, unconscious, bloody and dirty, would be burned into his brain forever. This image plus the dead bodies of innocent people around him when he had awoken in the italian restaurant were reasons why he had to let go of his dream of being with her – a dream that had turned into a fantasy in the last twenty-four hours.  
  
Silence surrounded them as they stood there, looking at each other. Oliver wished he could just break the connection of their eyes, but he couldn't bring himself to do it. And he couldn't bring himself to say anything. Because he knew his voice would give away every emotion rioting through his insides. All he could do was stand there, look at her and fight down the urge to hug her to him, to kiss her again and never stop.  
  
Felicity's voice ripped him out reminiscing about how bitter-sweet it had been to kiss her. “I said I didn't want to talk,” she said, her voice soft. “but I realized that I have some things to say to you.”  
  
Oh God. Please, God, no. He was feeling bad enough as it was. He wished he could make her stop talking or turn around and just leave, get away from her and all the things she would throw at him now. But he knew that he probably deserved everything she had to say to him and that she deserved to tell him some things, because he knew that he had been the one who had made every decision ever about their relationship. If this was a way for her to find closure, he would endure it; for her he would. But he couldn't look at her while she did it. He ripped his eyes away from her and slowly blew some air out between his lips. He needed to steady himself, steel himself for what was about to happen.  
  
She didn't wait for him to say anything, but just kept talking herself, “back in the restaurant, during our date – which, for the record, was so amazing that not even the explosion could spoil for me. Or the fact that we never even got a menu, seriously the waiter must have heard about your financial situation, he wasn't working very hard for a tip... That's a horrible thing to say, I realize now, because he was probably wounded – or worse. Okay, the ending of the date was bad, I see how that freaked you out. But everything before that was very nice.” She stopped right then and shook her head as if she had to clear her mind, he could see it out of the corner of his eyes. “I practiced what to say, but I should have known I'd screw it up anyway.”  
  
Oliver dared to glance at her. She still stood there, by her working station and the stupid fern that would forever be mocking him – or at least until he killed it, not on purpose but by the undeniable fact that he just wasn't a plant person. She had brought her hand to her forehead in an uneasy gesture, but quickly she let it drop again. Her arms hanging by her sides, she stood there and settled her eyes back on him. “You shared some things with me that mean a lot to me and l feel like doing the same. Finally, admitting some stuff. Like the fact that I never cared about the Arrow. I always cared about Oliver Queen.”  
  
Tightening the grip on his bow should be impossible, but he did it anyway. He needed to do it to keep his hand from shaking. It was the only calming thing he had right now, the only thing he knew how to handle perfectly and he needed to hold onto that, to the one thing he knew how to do better than almost anybody.  
  
“Our first meeting.” The faintest smile showed on her face and it made him melt a little more. “You said amazing things about it. It's a... fond memory you have.” She thought for a second. “I will just go and call it a revelation, okay? It wasn't like that for me, because you were too intimating that day. You were my boss' son and I said some very inappropriate things and you were too good-looking for me to relax and the shot-up laptop plus the shakespearean aspects connected to it really freaked me out.”  
  
He couldn't help but dimly smile himself. Not only because, once again, their very first meeting was replaying in his mind, but also because he could relate to her experiencing things very differently that day. He couldn't blame her. In fact, he couldn't help but think that her reaction to all that had happened that day and her way of summing it up was just so very much her.  
  
These thoughts fled from his mind as she continued talking, “My revelation came later. You had brought me a black arrow,” she gave him a very pointed look, “because your buddy Steve thinks archery is all the rage.”  
  
He remembered that day. She had told him archery seemed ridiculous to her. He still didn't know how he felt about that sentence, but he couldn't tell her that, because he didn't trust his voice to speak now.  
  
Felicity's voice on the other hand was working perfectly. “So I got you the information you needed and then...” Her voice turned a little shaky as she finished that sentence, “you smiled at me. Just for a moment, because you were religiously against smiling during that time. But it was nice to see it, see you smile like that. You looked so happy and so pleased, and you looked really good in that moment. I mean, you obviously always look good, but that smile... It's really was something. It still is.” She cleared her throat, and took a second to collect herself. Her voice was even quieter as she spoke up again. “Then you called me remarkable. And that was the moment I knew that I was in trouble, because I was falling for a billionaire who saw me as nothing but an helpful IT-girl, a rich boy who had a lot of _really_ questionable things going on.”  
  
An amused snort escaped his lips before he could hold it back. Finally, he dared to say something. His voice was coated with emotion and not as strong as he would have liked. “You thanked me for remarking that.”  
  
“I did. It really was nice remark.” Nervously, her hand flew up to her glasses and pushed them back up a little. “I tell you this, because... That was before you outed yourself to me, before I knew how you spent your nights. You were Oliver Queen back then. That was the guy I was falling for. The idea that you are now afraid of being that guy...” She searched for a word briefly, before she chose, “hurts.” Her voice was turning stronger now, “And it's stupid. Really, the idea that you're able to distinguish between Oliver Queen and the Arrow is stupid. Because how do you do that? How do you do that, when both of them are YOU?” Her hands now moved through the air. “I know many sides of you, Oliver, and all of them turn you into who you are, into who I care about, who I want to be with. And I am pissed at you for denying me that – at denying yourself that.”  
  
He had no answer to this, absolutely nothing to say to defend himself. He just stood there and took it, because a part of him knew that she had every right to be pissed at him. He had really fucked up, had made it worse with a date that he had known was a bad idea. His eyes watered, but he fought against it. He swallowed heavily as if he could force all the emotions, the sudden desperation tearing at him down.  
  
She now took one step toward him. The echo of her black high heel hitting the cement floor rang through the room. “You show me what could be and then you take it away. I don't know, if I can forgive you for that.” As soon as she had said that sentence, the anger fled from her. Her stiff posture softened, all fight left her body, and sorrow clouded her face. “I don't know, if I want to forgive you for that.”  
  
Her eyes lingered on him a moment longer, before she moved. Her steps were heavy and forceful as she headed toward and right past him. He didn't turn around to watch her walk up the stairs and away from him. He had wanted this, he had chosen this, he had chosen to talk and to end it. But still, the ending of it hurt like hell.

 


End file.
